


Brenhines

by orphan_account



Category: Jack of All Trades (TV)
Genre: Baby, Castles, Gen, Marriage, Spies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-25
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-06 06:11:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1847353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen of an English island, escapes to find the American spy she fell in love and gave her an heir to her throne, to a small island in the South Pacific. JackxOC. Title reads Queen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brenhines

The room was the color of a crumbling gravestone, a beautiful yet cold gray color. The ground beneath her golden slippered feet was harsh stone. She peered into the white cradle at her bedside, the same bedside where she had her first kiss with the man who had a hand in the making of the baby. Her eyes were adorned with a dark sadness. “I miss him too, Rebekah.”

She got up; smoothing away any wrinkles on her green crushed velvet dress, and walked over to the balcony. Heavy crushed red velvet drapes billowed on either side of the doors. Which had been left open at her orders. Storm or no storm, she felt the need to leave them open. She knew it was far fetched but she was always so fearful that when she closed an opening she was near, he’d call out to her. The night had brought a storm that raged the shoreline beneath the castle. Waves formed on the sea, like giant siren claws. 

She stepped onto the smooth white marble of the balcony and pressed her palms against the smooth stone of the bannister. She looked out into the dark sea, the dark night. Oh, Jack Stiles, where are you?

 

The island of Polau Polau was bustling, humid and hot. Jack got off the ship that sailed him here. From America to the East Indies. People chattered away in a tongue he did not know. A young boy ran into him. Jack caught him by the shoulders. “Oh, whoa!”

The boy looked up at him and he could not help but feel a twinge of sadness. Jack missed Nicola. He missed the life he knew he put in her womb. The boy backed up a bit, dropping a doll. Jack picked it up. “Slow down there, Daddy-o,” he chuckled. “Hey, who’s your little friend?”

“Give him back, he’s mine!” cried the young boy, snatching the doll from Jack’s hands. The young boy kicked him in the knee and ran off. “Bad man!”

Jack stood up with a groan and a hand on the ball of his knee. “Somebody sterilize that kid!” he shouted after the brat.

“The Daring Dragoon,” said a female’s voice. A British female voice. A blonde, upper class British woman stood across the crowded walkway.

“Miss, you’ve got the wrong guy,” said Jack.

She neared him. “Not you, the doll. The Dragoon’s a local folk hero, a myth,” she explained.

“Say, your English ain’t bad,” he said.

“Perhaps because I’m English,” she said.

“Ha! Thought I recognized the accent!” said Jack. “Listen, I hope you’re not still upset we told your king where to stick his crown.”

“My dear Mr. Stiles, you are to be my personal attaché,” she said. 

“Hey! How do you know my…whoa, whoa, wait a minute! You’re my contact?”

She held out her hand for him to kiss. “Emilia Rothschild,” she said. He did not kiss her hand. “Yes, I am a woman. Get over it.”

“Whoa, sister, let’s get one thing straight right now,” said Jack. “I take my orders from the President!”

She huffed and tore open his jacket, flicking out a piece of parchment. Jack tore it out of Emilia’s hands and read it. It was from Thomas Jefferson, telling him to shut up and do as the lady says. Jack rolled his eyes. “That’s what I get for voting.”


End file.
